Here's Chapter 2. Thank you guys for the 2 reviews! I didn't expect any, because these first few chapters are boring, but I had to set the stage for the characters, and explain Tiffany's situation. It will get better with each chapter, I have plenty of ideas. I'd like to thank my friend Shawn for a few he gave me! Also, if you haven't figured out, the 'scarred man' is the Joker, (obviously) and it's Heath's Joker. There will be more of him in the coming chapters. Thanks again guys! Please review!

Chapter 2

Insane

"Ah, don't worry 'bout him, he's a real looney toon." said Daniel. "Calls himself the Joker."

I remained quiet as he ushered me into Dr. Kilmer's office.

"Have a seat, Miss Blake," she told me, motioning to the chair in front of her desk. I sat down, reluctantly, not really wanting to talk to her or anyone else about anything. Dr. Kilmer waved Daniel off, and he left, shutting the door behind him.

"Would you like anything to drink?" she asked.

"Um, no, no thank you. How'd I get all this?" I asked, pointing to my face.

"Well," she said. "You were found unconscious when the police got there. Neighbors heard screaming, so they called 911. They thought you were a victim at first, but the girl told them what happened." She clasped her hands together.

"The girl? What girl?" I asked, confused as hell.

"Their daughter. She's 16. She said she saw the whole thing. She watched you kill her parents. Told the police that she knocked you out." Dr. Kilmer began scribbling away in a notebook on her desk.

I sat there for a bit, then my brain had finally registered what happened. When I moved out at 18, My foster parents must have adopted another girl. I had no clue she would be there, nor did I even think to check into it. That's where I fucked up. If I would've known that little bitch was going to be there, I wouldn't be sitting in this place with my head all bruised and sewn up.

I'd be in another city, finally in control of my life, living it the way I wanted to, without the terrible nightmares of my foster dad touching me, or the feeling of wanting to kick myself every day for never telling anyone.

But, someone did know. His wife, my foster mother knew what he did to me. No one every talked about it. She would just play dumb, and act as if nothing was happening. This went on for years. He probably threatened to kill her, too, if she told anyone, but to me that's no excuse. No one should every sit around and allow that to happen to a child, much less your child.

"He was molesting her," I said out of the blue. Dr. K looked from her notebook to me.

"Their daughter?" she asked curiously. "How do you know that?"

I glared at her, daring her to ask me anything else. She immediately understood and closed her notebook. She said nothing more, but the look on her face was sheer disgust.

"How long do I have to stay here?" I asked, changing the subject, but really wanting to know. " As long as it takes," Dr. Kilmer said. "As long as it takes for what?"

"As long as it takes to help you get better." I knew she wasn't going to let me leave, but my only other option was jail. To, me this seemed like a step better.

"Can I go back to my room now?" I asked, standing up, waiting for her approval. She nodded, that look still on her face and got up to open the door.

She led me back to my cell, pausing before closing the door to leave. I sat down on my bed and she came over to squat in front of me. I eyed her.

"I want to help you," she said.

"I'm not crazy," I said interrupting her. "I know you're not crazy," she said. "I want to help you figure out why you, a normal person, felt the impulse to kill. I can't do that if you wont talk to me."

"Why I felt the impulse to kill?!" I blurted.

Dr. Kilmer stood up, and so do I, going right up to her. I looked her right in the eyes, but she couldn't seem to keep eye contact with me. Was she scared? Did she pity me? Or both?

"Do you have kids, Dr. Kilmer?" I asked, my voice a little calmer than before.

"Three, actually," she said, before realizing where I was going.

"If some creep touches one of your kids, would you hesitate to find them and kill them?" I asked her through grinded teeth. She had no clue what to say. She just stood there, her mouth hung open and that same pitiful disgusted look.

"For eight long years, I had to suffer for what he did to me. He wasn't sorry, and you know what? The feeling is mutual."

Dr. Kilmer had tears running down her cheeks now.

"I did what the hell I had to do. To keep my sanity, I had to do something completely insane."

She wiped the tears from her eyes. "I can help you deal with this. All the memories, everything," she said placing a hand on my shoulder.

"You can help by getting me a lighter." I held up the pack of cigarettes.

"Alright," she said. "Just ask Daniel when you need to use it. He has one." She tried to smile, then she turned around and walked out of the door, closing it.

Daniel came up to the window, not even looking at me and held up a Bic lighter. The man with the scars was at his window again, looking at me. He waved, wiggling his fingers and smiled. This time, a more human smile. Something made me smile back.

I handed the lighter back to Daniel through the bars, after lighting my cigarette. "Thanks, sweety," I purred to him as he pocketed the Bic. "And you can call me Tiffany." His head shot up and flushed with red. "Y-yeah sure, no p-problem," he stuttered, then walked off, down the hallway.

The scarred man across from me began cackling.

"What's so funny?" I asked, taking a drag off of my cigarette.

"What's so funny?!" he mocked, laughing. "You nearly made the poor guy come in his pants!" He continued to laugh.

I started to chuckle, then I found myself laughing with him.

After our laughing fit, I got a good look at his face. I felt a bit curious as to how he got those horrible scars.

"So, what happened?" I asked, moving my finger around my face.

"Well, I'm not really sure, but it looks like you got your ass kicked," he said, making a mock wincing face. I rolled my eyes. "Not me, you!" He laughed again. He laughs at damn near everything, I noticed. "That, my dear, is a story that is way too long to get into right now." He flicked his tongue out again, tracing one of his scars. He does it so much, I think its subconscious. "Not like we don't have time," I said.

His mouth curved upward into that smile of his. "Maybe, once I'm out of here, I might enlighten you. That should be very soon."